The perfect human being is being moderately listening, moderately speaking, moderately hardworking, moderately playful, moderately witty, moderately artistic, moderately moderate.

We don’t really learn anything properly until there is a problem, until we are in pain, until something fails to go as we had hoped.

A little insomnia is not without its value in making us appreciate sleep, in throwing a ray of light upon that darkness. An unfailing memory is not a very powerful incentive to study the phenomena of memory.

There is no man, however wise, who has not at some period of his youth said things, or even lived in a way which was so unpleasant to him in later life that he would gladly, if he could, expunge it from his memory. But he shouldn’t regret this entirely, because he cannot be certain that he has indeed become a wise man – so far as any of us can be wise – unless he has passed through all the fatuous or unwholesome incarnations by which that ultimate stage must be reached.

If colors could be used to describe writings, his writings made full use of every colors from black to white.

1. There is an Arabic saying that the soul travels at the pace of a camel. While most of our self is led by the strict demands of timetables and diaries, our soul, the seat of the heart, trails nostalgically behind, burdened by the weight of memory. if every love affair adds a certain weight to the camel’s load, then we can expect the soul to slow according to the significance of love’s burden. By the time it was finally able to shrug off the crushing weight of her memory, Chloe had nearly killed my camel

5. The physical world refused to let me forget. Life is crueler than art, for the latter usually assures that physical surrounds reflect characters’ mental states. If someone in a Garcia Lorca play remarks on how the sky has turned low, dark, and gray, this is no longer an innocent meteorological observation, but a symbol of a psychological state. Life gives us no such handy markers – a storm comes, and far from this being a harbinger of death and collapse, during its course a person discovers love and truth, beauty and happiness, the rain lashing at the windows all the while. Similarly, in the course of a beautiful warm summer day, a car momentarily loses control on a winding road and crashes into a tree, fatally injuring its passengers.

6. But the external world did not follow my inner moods. The buildings that had provided the backdrop to my love story, and that I had animated with feelings derived from it, now stubbornly refused to change their appearance so as to reflect my inner state. The same trees lined the approach to Buckingham Palace, the same stuccoed houses fronted the residential streets, the same Serpentine flowed through Hyde Park, the same sky was lined with the same porcelain blue, the same cars drove through the same streets, the same shops sold much the same goods to much the same people.

7. This refusal of change was a reminder that the world was an entity that would spin on regardless of whether I was in love or out of it, happy or unhappy, alive or dead. It could not be expected to change its expressions according to my moods, nor would the great blocks of stones that formed the streets of the city take time to consider my love story. Though they had been happy to accommodate my happiness, they had better things to do than to come crashing down now that Chloe was gone.

the reluctance turn of the windmill in the wind.
no one ever thought of its helplessness. or perhaps someone did.

like a bird that took flight but never once looked back. or perhaps it did.

like shadows forever lost in the faceless evening crowd.

echoes we could only imagine but voices we can no longer recognise. hej hej.

the anatomy of peace could well be found in the chaos.

Just finished watching Gran Torino. Another brilliant movie that left me in a turbulence of after-thoughts. This time, it’s a little different from the usual feeling that i get. It’s less fixated and less focused. But it probably bugs me twice as much as usual. I’m thinking the effect might not entirely be due to this film.

I’m slowly getting accustomed to the notion that certain movie only clicks when you’re in the appropriate mood during the day. On this day, Gran Torino is a brilliant movie. Clint Eastwood is masterclass!

///

Waiting for something is an uncomfortable process. Days have gone by with my indulgence in mundane monotony of work, I realised that I’ve lost count of the days and hours. At the start, I was counting with the enthusiasm of a child. Gradually, all but some of those dissipated into the vacuum emptiness that echoes between my ears. And the heart sinks as the footstep slows to the pace of directionless walking. Perhaps I’ve already lost sight of what’s ahead already.

///

for some good laidback music, Jason Reeves has got a good playlist.

it’s a tad premature, but yes, the ticker clock is ticking down and year 2008 is coming to an end quirky soon.

/-/-/-/-/

came across this piece. beautiful.

do I know me?

Love After Love

The time will come
When, with elation,
You will greet yourself arriving
At your own door, in your mirror,
And each smile at the other’s welcome,
And say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was yourself.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
To itself, to the stranger who has loved you
All your life, whom you ignored
For another who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
The photographs, the desperate notes,
Peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

- Derek Walcott

procrastination is looking at others having a snow fight outside my window.

procrastination is tidying up my desk and messing it up again when I couldn’t find my keys.

procrastination is deciding that i will start studying when the sun sets at 3.

procrastination is deciding to do my laundry when i just done one 2 days ago.

procrastination is charging my phone when there are still 2 bars left.

procrastination is counting the number of times i blink per minute.

procrastination is … easier than studying swedish.

「有些人經過我身旁 住在我腦中 在我心底鑽洞

有些人變成相片 堆在角落灰塵像雪一般冰凍」

但，最怕有些人雖然早已走遠，卻從不肯把屬於他的回憶帶走。

- From Ashin

一个人一世人，遇到的人很多。
有些会让你流连忘返，有些会让你刻骨铭心，有些让你尴尬因为连名字都不记得。
最怕的，不只是当他们已走远了，仍然揪着你的心。
而是当他们要走远之前，因你依依不舍的痛楚，所以拼了命地想制造回忆。
那所谓的回忆，却只是你那捉也捉不住的曾经。